Late Night Lenten Meditation

First, let's get one thing straight. I should be sleeping. I should be praying. I should be doing pushups. But here we are. I confess I am so confused now about writing, and especially about writing about spiritual things, that I asked the Lord to interrupt me if He does not want me to write this.

The spiritual reading du jour is Story of a Soul, which we are reading at our ladies' study group at the church. St. Therese, while famous for her "little way," nonetheless admits to "immense desires," including the desire for martyrdom--even all the torments of the saints put together.

Here's where she starts to lose me. She tells us that she is so little and weak all the time, so how could she wish for things that even the strongest constitution would recoil at? I wondered at this while I was in the shower, with hot water cascading all about me (while reminding myself how much Therese herself suffered from the cold and damp at the convent)--at how spiritually bankrupt I must be that I could not even force myself to take a cold shower, let alone endure any torture or persecution voluntarily. How many luxuries have we grown used to in our daily lives, from having hot water on demand to warm sheets to plenty of interesting food to eat and the freedom to shut the world out in our own warm homes? I do not mean this to be a simple lookie-what-we-take-for-granted homilette, however. Bear with me.

From this I moved to thinking about the good things Therese had in her life that I do not have. She called the desire for martyrdom a "consolation" that was sometimes given to little souls like hers, but if a soul were not to receive this consolation she called it an even greater grace. I concluded that I definitely have not received this grace. Score 1 for Therese. Next, I considered her home life, the devout faith of her father and mother, and the support and encouragement she received from her sisters. I definitely do not have that. In fact, after considering all her spiritual insights and the great advancement in holiness she achieved at Carmel, the realization hit me that, even if I offered to change places with little Therese--to offer her my flannel sheets, wool sweaters,and cups of hot chocolate--she would not do it. In fact, in her magnanimity, she would probably call my attention to the several martyrdoms I am experiencing right now--which, while not martyrdoms of the flesh, are nonetheless sources of very great suffering not only to me but to many people who live in this modern age and this materialistic society. These martyrdoms have the great advantage of being all but invisible.

1. Living in a society that does not care about religion. This martyrdom manifests itself in a myriad of frustrations for the good Catholic who must suffer attacks against the Church, marginalization in politics, and having to pay extra to educate his children, among other things.

2. Estrangement from family. The scourge of divorce has robbed millions of the stability and emotional security of having intact families as the basis for society. As citizens in a society becoming ever more individualized, it is common to feel only indifference at the plight of even family members struggling to survive. "I did it, why can't they?" we ask, not realizing that God created families to help do for those who cannot do for themselves. Without families, the individual is subject to the tender mercies of the state.

And, more personally:

3. Isolation. Being that my husband must travel long distances to work, I find myself alone with the children almost constantly.

4. Having a sick child. Caring for him and anxiety about his condition. Doctor visits, hospital bills, special diets.

5. Temptations to discouragement and despair. It's all around us, the little voices that tell us that we're no good, we're worth nothing, all our faith and our good efforts to change society are in vain, the resurrection is a hoax, the Church is power trippin.'

6. Temptations to immorality, impurity, and pride. Don't ask me how Peter Pan can tempt one to thoughts of impurity. Just don't ask. I threw the book in the trash. Our culture is sick, sick, sick.

Look around at your life, and I'm sure you'll find a few of your own. I actually rejoiced when I realized that God had given me my own sufferings, tailor-made for me, and that so long as I handed them all back to Him in joy and love and gratitude, I could profit from them just as much as from any physical austerity. Indeed, we can rejoice to let God choose the martyrdoms, since the heavenly Surgeon knows just where to put the lance, where the infection is deepest. He does not do so out of anger (even though we have no cause to refuse His just chastisements), but out of love, since out of our sufferings comes the love that He thirsts for, the love that only we can give.

Jesus thirsts for your love. He has given you the crosses that you must bear, knowing that He stands beside you to shoulder the balance of the burden for you...because He loves you, because He so greatly desires the love that only you can give Him. "Love and cause to be loved the Love that is not loved."

Now I can go to bed.